Luck
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: After two weeks without letters, Mary anxiously waits for news of Francis, and Kenna can't help but count her blessings.


Two weeks without news went by before they started to worry.

There was always worry, as even a small battle is tricky business and the minor misstep can result in death. But the men left nearly two months ago, the Dauphin leading them, their numbers large and confident in their victory. They watched them go with high hopes and calm hearts.

Kenna stood beside Mary as she saw everyone off, her husband at the lead. Her Queen was worried, of course, it almost radiated off her in waves, but it was the natural worry of a wife, a woman who sees the man she loves ride away and can't be absolutely certain he will come back. She knew she'd have acted the same if it was _her_ husband going off to war. But that worry was nothing like the desperate anxiousness that eats away at her now, that too many days have passed with no sight of their silhouettes on the horizon nor that of the rider that bears the soldier's letters.

It was quiet as they sat in Mary's chambers, waiting for news that were long overdue.

"Do you think we've lost? Is that it?" Kenna asked to no one in particular, breaking the stillness of the room.

"I don't know, the letters...might have been delayed for some reason..." Lola trailed off, not voicing what they are all thinking. That they should have been back by now, if they had won. That they should at least have gotten some sort of news.

"I hear that when its too far away and too cold to bring the bodies back, they bury them right there. At least so the crows don't pick them." She said offhandedly, sharing the disturbing bit of information she heard from her maids that morning.

"Kenna." Lola admonished softly, nodding towards Mary and Greer, and she immediately regretted her words. Mary's head whipped up at her words, the most movement she had done for the past hour her eyes had spent focused on the fireplace. She immediately regretted being so thoughtless. (Here's the thing about Kenna, she means well, she does; she just sometimes doesn't think before she speaks.)

Her Queen didn't look like a powerful monarch then, she barely looked like a sane woman. Her hair was unbrushed, her nails bitten in a show of nervousness. There were dried tear tracks down her cheeks and her forehead was permanently crinkled as she constantly looked out the window, as if news from her husband would come flying in at any moment

"Mary…I mean…" She stopped, tried again. "They probably thought it best to spend more time there. " Her reassurance was weak at best, didn't quite make sense when you thought about it. But she could see Mary didn't, she didn't seem to think about anything but Francis as she twisted her hands in her lap, her skin turning even paler where she cut the blood flow. Greer gently separated her hands, holding hers with her own, before she thoughtlessly hurt herself.

"Kenna is right. The battle could have dragged on, or perhaps they needed to stay longer to secure the castle." Lola supplied helpfully, her hand resting on the bump that her stomach had swollen to.

"And then why haven't there been any letters?" Mary asked them faintly, but they had no answer to give their Queen. "They'd never been delayed before." She said to herself, or to no one in particular. She seemed to retreat into herself more every day Francis wasn't around. They could hardly get a word out of her as they helped her dress in the morning, and she often missed meals, with Kenna or Greer left to coax her out of her chambers.

Kenna had no idea how Mary managed, and counted herself lucky that every night she went back to her rooms and didn't have to brave the winter nights alone. Bash's warm embrace was always around her, keeping her from the chill and bringing the kind of comfort friends or parents couldn't provide, solely a husband's work, she felt. She would have gone mad already, if he'd gone off to fight and his letters had stopped coming home. She felt a pang in her chest for Mary.

Mary and Francis had been writing letters all the while he'd been gone. Kenna often found herself being the one to carry them to Mary's room, as Lola was advised not to walk much because of her baby and Greer spent as much time as possible with Castleroy. She was curious, as she knew they hadn't parted on the best of terms, but without fail, week after week, his letters arrived and the next day Mary's letter was sent.

Until the past two weeks, that is, when the delivery had not come.

"It's freezing outside." Mary said, turning to look at them. The hopeless look in her eyes, her worry, was almost a tangible thing.

Greer rubbed her hand, as if the warmth could fix the chill of the weather outside; and it seemed fitting that she was the one to comfort her best. Her kitchen boy was in that battle as well. Both women shared the same worry, their men in armor, carrying swords, blood being shed and the hoping it's not theirs.

"We'd been fighting…I said terrible things, things I didn't mean. What if-" Mary breathed in sharply, trying and failing to keep her sobs at bay. "What if-" She crumbled.

"Oh Mary…" Greer held her, letting her rest her head on her shoulder, comforting as much as being comforted. The sorrow of her friends seemed to pull them down like something heavy and solid, and she wondered faintly how they managed not to choke with it. Kenna stood up and went to Mary's other side, sitting down and wrapping her arms around them both. Greer, even engaged to another man, shed quiet tears of worry for the nobody who truly held her heart; and Mary shook with the sobs she clearly forced herself to push inside. And despite herself, all Kenna could think, as she tried to keep her friends together with just soothing words and her arms, is that she was so, _so_ glad Bash had stayed behind.


End file.
